The Viper's Tears
by LostCriesofTime
Summary: Elia Martell was a girl who didn't meet the expectations for a Princess of Dorne, being fragile and averse to fighting. Sometimes she dreamed of escaping to the shores of Westeros where women weren't expected to do battle and princes were handsome, sensitive and kind. Little does she know the inner strength she will soon need when tragedy consumes the kingdom. Love triangle ExRxL
1. Prologue: Part One

**_Disclaimer:_** _I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

 _ **Note:** Just gonna test this story idea out for fun. I love the character of Elia Martell and **Ali** **Nowac** has done some really inspiring snapshots of her life (which I can't recommend checking out enough, they may be short but they all gave me chills), but I just wanted to explore her in more depth myself. This may not work but lets give it a go!_  
 _Prologue parts will be her as a young teen, then we will move on to her life as a late teen and her relationship with Rhaegar._

* * *

 ** _Prologue (part one)  
_**

* * *

Elia aged Thirteen

Watching her brothers spar in the late afternoon sun, sweat prickling at her back as she fought the urge to twitch and squirm in her seat, she fanned herself idly and imagined she could move as swiftly as Oberyn. As a princess of Dorne she was expected to be swift and ferocious, a viper, yet Elia was as delicate and gentle as they came. It was her greatest failing.

Her regal mother sat by her side, her dark hair gleaming and her haughty expression fixed as she regarded her sons in the arena.

"I wish you would fight, Elia," she mused pointedly. Her gaze did not flit to her daughter for even a moment, her concentration on the match before them unwavering.

"I'm sorry Mother," Elia looked down and felt the shame tinge her pale cheeks.

"You are a princess of Dorne," her mother reminded her needlessly, her tone sharp. "It is expected of you to be able to hold your own against an aggressor."

"I know, Mother."

"They _try_ ," her mother sniffed. "Show Dorne you are worthy. Show me."

She wanted to crawl under a rock upon hearing this, dreading being set against one of her mother's beloved Dune Vipers, the elite women warriors of Dorne, in combat. She knew what was expected of her, though, and she would die before disappointing her country. She _was_ Dorne. She tilted her chin upwards in a show of acceptance and determination she did not feel and spoke with a steady voice.

"I shall."

With those two words she knew her days would look very different, at least once her mother saw to her training and held her to her word. Never mind, she would honour her spoken vow, to do anything else would be dishonour of the highest degree. She set her small jaw and stared ahead at her brothers, watching them and imagining with difficulty that it were her, not they, who moved with such speed and assurance. Who fought with such bravery, fearless of harm.

"Very good," her mother commented absently, her attention now wholly set upon her sons once more. More specifically her beloved son, Doran.

"Wine, milady?" the servants presented some of the chilled, tart tasting blackberry wine which was so favoured in Dorne, and while her mother waved away the offer absentmindedly Elia held out a small white hand for the goblet, drinking deeply and shivering at the warmth which spread inside her. It was quick to chase away her anxiety.

Her mother shot a quick glance of disapproval. "Drink like a princess, Elia, not like some greedy whore."

"Yes, Mother," Elia murmered, sipping daintily at the rest of her refreshing drink, suitably chastised.

Once the match was over and her brothers were panting like dogs in the last rays of the sun, their smiles wide and their bodies covered in layers of dust, sweat and blood, they approached their mother and sister ready to share in the light refreshments.

"Did you see my speed, mother?" Oberyn asked grinning, his voice high pitched and eager. He was the youngest legitimate Martell and Elia doted on him, he was mischievous and fun and brave; all the things she wished she could be. Unfortunately their mother did not share this affection, favouring her oldest child above all, to the exclusion of her others.

"I did," she flashed a tight smile briefly at the younger son before reaching to embrace Doran who was the undisputed apple of her eye. Elia frowned as she saw the hurt flit across Oberyn's face before disappearing as rapidly as it appeared. She could sympathise with her brother, who had all the makings of greatness yet was unfortunately the youngest of the legitimate siblings and so would always be a drifting part in the cogs of their royal family.

"You were fantastic," Elia offered, giving him her sweet, shy smile and passing him a goblet of wine.

He landed on the cushions by her side with little grace and flashed her his dimpled smile. "No change there then," he commented nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling in his still round face.

"Oh, I don't know," she giggled softly, playing along with his good natured jokes. "I could probably still tickle you into submission, little brother."

At this Oberyn spluttered on his wine and squirmed to get out of her reach, yet he was too late. She sprang at him and tickled him under his arms, causing him to flail and drop his chalice into the sand, the dark red liquid spreading out in a large pattern as the sand absorbed it quickly. "'Lia, no!" he panted between giggles, but she pinned him down and danced her small fingers up and down his sides as he begged for mercy.

"Elia Martell, stop this right now." Her mother's sharp voice cut through their giggles and she dropped her arms to her side immediately. Both children looked up at her, identical pairs of wide eyes finding hers, holding identical expressions of pleading confusion. "Act as befits your station."

They exchanged sheepish looks and settled down obediently to hear of Doran's unrivaled technique and stamina as the sun set over the horizon, the sudden chill bringing goosebumps up their arms.

* * *

At the evening meal that night, as Elia sat on her cushion and picked at the spiced lamb and vegetables set before her, the Dune Vipers performed their acrobatics, their bodies a rippling mass of finely tuned muscles which performed incredible feats before her very eyes. This was what her mother wanted her to achieve, this was what she dreaded. The food stuck in her throat and she could not swallow, her eyes fixated on the young women before her, some barely older than her.

Oberyn lay a warm, chunky palm over her wrist and squeezed with sympathy. By now the whole palace had heard of her mother's plans for her, of what an embarrassment her daughter had turned out and the remedy for such a shameful daughter that the queen had in mind. She flashed her little brother a troubled smile and together they watched the Vipers as they twisted and turned, their whips licking the sand, like their namesakes. They studiously ignored the meaningful glances thrown in their direction from about them, aware only of each other and the warriors before them.

"You are the blood of house Martell, you shall rear your head as a viper not to be defeated," Oberyrn whispered eventually.

"I am no fighter, dear brother," she nibbled her lip as she whispered low enough that her light voice would not carry. "You know its true."

He shrugged and bit into a juicy chunk of meat, setting his jaw in determination, his dark eyes glinting in the torchlight. "I shall teach you," his offer was well meaning but Elia nodded sadly.

"I do not want to fight," she admitted finally. "I could never hurt another."

He looked into the fire intently and was silent for a while, lost in his own thoughts. "I fear you may need to one day, sister," he turned intense eyes towards her and she shuddered.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he paused, his forehead wrinkled in a frown. "I just fear it, that's all. You're so fragile and I worry what may happen if I'm not there to defend you."

She laughed at his intense mood, her little brother who was never serious and always laughing. "Don't scare yourself so, Oby. I am a princess of Dorne, no one would dare harm me."

"Yeah, you're right..."

"I'm done with eating, let's dance!" she grabbed his arm and hoisted him up as he resisted, claiming he had not yet done with _his_ food. "Dance with me?" she pleaded with shining eyes, tugging him gently away from his meal.

He groaned and allowed himself to be led away, staring back to his plate regretfully as he watched a servant clear it away. She laughed at his expression and spun him around as the drum beat quickened and others came to rejoice around the fire with them.

"There will be more food, little brother," she smirked playfully. For royalty there was always more food.

He laughed in return and threw himself into the dance as he would a sparring match; wholeheartedly. As the vivid colours of the Dornish nobles in their beautiful robes, the scents of the spiced foods and wine and the sounds of the thrumming music rippled around them, he swirled his older sister in his arms and for a while both forgot their worries as they lost themselves in the festivities.

Dizzy, panting and exhausted they finally flopped back down on their cushions, shouting with hoarse voices for more wine and giggling to themselves with sheer joy. Further delicacies were later presented on burnished platters and while Elia did not touch another morsel, Oberyn ate greedily, his head spinning slightly from the rich, unwatered wine.

"Thank you Oby," Elia murmered sleepily after a while, curling up on her cushion as they watched the other nobles dance merrily into the night.

"What for?"

"For being you and for cheering me, like you always do."

It wasn't long after that when she fell into a deep sleep, unnoticed by their parents or other siblings. He glanced down tenderly at the one person in his life who seemed to see him for who he was, who seemed to enjoy his company and cherish him, and he kissed her warm forehead gently. He then asked a servant to bring a blanket, covering her from the night's chill, and for a little while he watched as the light of the large fire before them illuminated her face, her features slackened in sleep and peaceful, the planes of her face soft and pleasing to the eye. She may not have the fierce streak necessary to be a Dune Viper, he mused, but she would certainly possess a dainty beauty when she was older, and he was aware that beauty itself could be a weapon. He had watched as his mother used it frequently.

His sister would do well. She would carve her own path and maybe it would be different from the usual Dorne way, but he vowed he would one day see her valued for her own gifts, not forced to conform to his mother's expectations.

* * *

"Get up, princess," the mocking tone grated on her and she forced herself out of the dirt, wiping the streak of blood from above her eye and wincing as the sand stung the tender gash. Above her, leering down with a superior smirk, stood Ashara, her mother's chosen trainer.

She forced her bruised fingers to once more close around the wooden practice stick which lay in the dust, but with two of them broken, swelling and purple, her grip was pitiful. That was just tough, though, as she had discovered that explaining this to her teacher would only get her more damaged so she stood, her head throbbing and her vision swaying as she lurched forward towards the older girl, raising her weapon to strike.

 _Crack_.

Before she knew what had happened she was back in the dirt, her weapon discarded to one side just out of reach and an intense pain like fire running up her arm. She could not move it. She cried out in agony and Ashara bore down on her angrily, her heavy weight making it difficult for Elia to breath.

"Dune Vipers do not whimper or cry, princess," she snarled, grabbing Elia by the hair and yanking her head backwards. "Should I tell your mother of this?"

Elia tried to plead with the girl, but she could not control the sobs of panic for long enough to form a word.

"Training is over for today," Ashara spat in disgust, picking up the feather light girl easily and carrying her over to a tent where she could summon a physician. Maybe she had pushed her too hard, she could see the bone in her left arm jut out unnaturally. It wouldn't do well to damage the princess irreparably.

"No," Elia blurted, regretting it as soon as she had spoken. What was she thinking, she longed for nothing more than for this brutal training to be over with - for good. Yet her pride would not allow her to fail in this manner. She spluttered and sat up in the older girl's arms.

"If you insist," Ashara dropped her to the ground and shrugged. If the wretch wanted more who was she to say no? She would see what the princess was truly made of. "Get up and fight me."

Elia could not use her left arm, her favoured arm, so pushed herself up feebly with her right. Ashara gave her a disdainful look as the princess of Dorne squirmed in the dirt to her feet, but found some respect for the spirit which refused to be broken. "Maybe I can make something of you after all, princess," she mused, dark eyes twinkling. "Maybe you'll make good canon fodder, you're brilliant at taking a beating it seems. We've found you a skill."

Elia scowled at the jibe and found new strength to stand, her legs shaky but holding firm. She felt the gaze of her brother Oberyn from where he stood under the shaded canopy and straightened up, determined he would not see her showing weakness. "I am a princess of Dorne, not cannon fodder," she asserted, her voice weak and raspy but her eyes blazing. She swayed slightly, feeling dizzy in the heat as sweat trickled down her sides. She craved water, her throat scratchy and mouth dry. She stood her ground.

"Then prove it," Ashara moulded her body into a natural fighting stance, no weapons in hand. Elia mirrored her movements, holding herself ready for fluid movement and hand to hand combat. Ashara feigned a punch and Elia's stomach clenched, nausea rolled over her as she tasted fear but she did not flinch. They began to dance around each other, testing borders and moving in a roiling motion which the Dornish favoured, always keeping their opponent guessing as to their next step.

Ashara struck, her blow landing on the side of Elia's skull and dazing her slightly, knocking her off balance until she stumbled to recover her stance. She knew Ashara could have finished her off and was now just playing with her and she set her jaw. Her head throbbed, her arm felt like it was on fire and her eyes prickled with tears as she fought down the pain.

Yet it was anger which won out, anger she had never known she was capable of until she was faced with this humiliation and pain at the hands of a Dune Viper.

 _Unbowed_. _Unbent_. _Unbroken_. The words of her proud house echoed around her mind as she felt a surge of vicious energy spread through her like venom. She was a Martell.

She struck back, missing completely but sending her opponent into the direction she wanted. She quickly lashed out with a kick, weak from exhaustion but connecting with the older girl's tensed stomach. They both froze in shock, Elia had never managed to land a blow before. Ashara brusquely wiped down the from of her tunic where dirt from Elia's foot had left an imprint and smiled.

"Well done, Elia." It was the first time she had referred to her by her name and Elia's heart swelled at the sudden warmth in her voice.

Then the black spots she had seen dancing behind her eyes for the last few minutes enveloped her and she blacked out, Oberyn rushing down the dunes to check she was okay.

"Your sister is weak," Ashara informed him.

"Hold your tongue, bitch!" Oberyn snarled, drawing Elia's tiny body into his strong arms and picking her up. Her head lolled back and he had to stop himself from lashing out in rage at the girl who had done this, remembering she was just following the queen's orders.

Ashara laughed at his vehemence and walked away, turning over her shoulder and smirking. "She has spirit though, I admire that."

Oberyn carried her away and was even more relieved than her to hear that she was banned from training for months while she recovered from multiple bone breaks.

Her mother was not impressed with this, passionately demanding she should still train but being overruled by the king who, seeing her anger, soon decided it was necessary to order a trip to the mainland for their royal children. It was an idea he had formulated a long time ago, as it was always necessary to cultivate relations with the main houses of Westeros and this provided the perfect opportunity. His wife was overbearing at the best of times, but seeing how she flared in anger at the perceived failure of Elia in training, he decided some distance would do both of them good. He only regretted that he could not join them.

They would sail in three weeks. Elia could not believe her luck when she heard the news.

* * *

"Are you excited?" Elia's eyes shone with expectation as she faced him, her younger brother with whom she was soon to set off to Westeros to meet some of the powerful families she had studied in her lessons for as long as she could remember.

Oberyn shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalent as he felt himself no longer a child, at eleven, and did not want to appear too enthusiastic. "It should be fun," he offered, fighting down his urge to bounce up at down at the thought of being allowed on such an adventure. They were packed and due to sail in a matter of hours, so here they sat in their generous cabins, inhaling the rich sea air and watching as the sailors outside went about their mundane chores, so unusual and incredible to the wide eyed children who had never seen a man scale a huge pole before.

"What do you think the Lannisters will be like?"

"I hear Cersei's gorgeous," Oberyn's eyes twinkled and they both laughed.

"Where's Doran?" Elia asked after a little while of excited chit chat. "I heard he has his own cabin."

"He does, the captain gave him his."

"Shall we go say hi?"

"Sure, now mother isn't around he may want to spend time with us," Oberyn smiled hesitantly. Elia nodded and they left their servants to sort their belongings into the compact storage spaces while they pranced away to play cards and dice with their older brother, hoping he would want to see them and not just wave them away as he had taken to doing in recent months. He was seventeen now and felt too mature to entertain his younger siblings, yet on the ship they would be his main companions for the weeks of sea travel so he was stuck with them.

* * *

After more than a week of sea travel, seeing nothing but shimmering water in every direction around them, broken only by laughing dolphins and diving birds, a huge land mass finally emerged in front of them and Elia pointed and squealed with joy. "Oby, we're nearly there!"

Oberyn walked over to where she stood, her hair being whipped in every way by the harsh sea breeze, her skin flushed an unusual pink and her expression rapt as she gazed straight ahead toward the horizon.

"We should dock in four or five hours, Princess," a sailor who wandered past informed her, a smile on his face as he saw her expression.

The sailors had come to know the children a little over the course of the journey, showing Elia and Oberyn how the ship functioned and indulging their exploration of every nook and cranny of the vessel, explaining anything which they found unusual and laughing at some of their escapades. Elia, as the only young girl, was especially doted on by the rough, hard working crew and the feeling of affection between the two younger royal children and the crew was mutual. Doran, however, was more reserved and did his best to stay apart from the crew, disliking some of the hardships life on a ship entailed and counting the days before he could be in the grasps and comforts of civilisation once more.

"Thank you, Harlan," she replied, giving him a smile before turning back to the sight of the ever growing land mass which held so much promise in her mind. She had always imagined living in Westeros, with its glamourous history and people.

She did not leave her spot at the helm of the ship for the rest of the journey, drinking in the sight of this strange land greedily. Had she been born here she would never have had to train in the martial arts, coming home each evening dusty and bone weary. She would have focused on womanly arts, gentle arts which her soul would rejoice in, wearing pretty gowns instead of animal skin training tunics which sweltered under the glare of the harsh sun.

"What's wrong?" Oberyn asked seeing her gaze as the longing for a different life overwhelmed her.

"Sometimes I just wish-" she stopped herself and forced a smile. "It is nothing, dear brother, I'm just overwhelmed."

He nodded, unconvinced, and they spent the rest of the journey in thoughtful silence as they regarded the looming land mass before them.

* * *

 _ **Note:** I call her trainers, the original elite femme fatales of Dorne, the "Dune Vipers" and they are gonna be similar to the league of shadows in their martial arts expertise and legendary status. They will later be destroyed, all butchered in unarmed combat, by Oberyn's bastard daughters who will take up the name of Sand Snakes, having outgrown the training these warriors provided them from early ages and taken their place as Dorne's legendary warriors._


	2. Prologue: Part Two

**_Disclaimer:_** _I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people..._

 _..._

* * *

 **Prologue (part two)**

* * *

As their heavily laden caravans and litters finally approached Casterly Rock, where the Lannisters would be prepared to host them for the duration of their stay, Oberyn and Elia pushed aside the small velvet curtains of their litters so their could catch their first glimpse of this noble house of Westeros. Over their journey they had stayed a night at the Tyrell's and a few nights here and there in other well to do homes of lesser nobles, but this would be their main stay as father had profitable links with Tytos Lannister and hoped to forge future links with Tywin, his successor. This trip would be the perfect way to go about such things, maybe even providing a prelude to a marriage contract with some of the children.

Not that Elia or Oberyn knew of these reasons, they were just delighted to finally meet some of the people they had heard so much about.

With the imposing presence of Casterly Rock coming into view Elia took Oberyn's hand in her own and squeezed, as much in nervous anticipation as in awe at the sight. He squeezed back and wriggled in his seat, stretching his legs out as far as he could and rearranging himself to relieve his numb bottom.

"Can't we just get out and walk?" he pleaded.

Elia grinned and rolled her eyes at her brother. "No, silly. We could have done miles ago when we wouldn't be seen, but not now. How would that look, the prince and princess of Dorne walking alongside their own litters like cattle?"

Oberyn snickered. "It would be fun to imagine mother's reaction when news got back to her."

"Oby!" she admonished, biting down on her own smile at the idea. It would be delightful.

As the boy wriggled around again in the cramped space trying to get comfortable she could feel the servants below trying to adapt to the continually shifting weight of their load. Swatting at her brother as the litter lurched, she hissed "stop it, we haven't long now and it's not fair on the poor servants."

He sat down with a thud and scowled, remaining still. "Fine."

She lay a hand on his shoulder and grimaced in sympathy. "I know its horrid being cooped up all day but we will be no more than ten minutes now, I'm sure."

He gave her a smile and they turned to peer out at the scenery around them, gasping as they saw wild deer rush past the thicket in the distance. They had never seen a deer before, what a majestic creature. How they wished they could have got a better view.

Before too long their litter was lowered and Oberyn sprang up, his face lighting with anticipation. They had arrived. Elia motioned for him to sit and wait with the dignity expected of a royal, for a servant would come to open their door for them and hand them out with a grand announcement and some fanfare, but her younger brother's patience had reached its limit.

He opened the door himself, greeted by the startled face of a servant who immediately stepped backwards to hastily announce the boy and his sister, and took a leap out of the litter, ignoring the steps placed there for their use. Stretching his muscles and groaning, like a commoner after a hard day's labour, he ignored his hosts until Elia, having dismounted with proper decency, placed a warning hand on his shoulder and led him in show of decency with her low curtsy. He followed her example and bowed, causing her to sigh in relief.

Next Doran alighted from his own litter, his bearing regal and self assured in a way which truly showed royal breeding to honour Dorne. Elia blushed with shame, thinking how the two younger siblings must compare.

Next the Lannisters bowed in turn, a haughty looking blond girl assessing Elia from top to bottom and smirking at what she saw, clearly unimpressed, and formal introductions were made. Oberyn leered at the blonde, undoubtedly Cersei, openly, but she ignored him and had attention in favour of Doran, who stood handsome and proud yet unaware of the attention of a younger girl. Jaime, her twin and so similar in likeness that there could be no mistaking their relation, gave Oberyn and Elia rueful smiles, the younger children of Dorne felt themselves warm to him immediately and smiled back.

"I am sure after your long journey you require rest and refreshments?" Tytos gestured for the children to follow him and they walked, followed by a large retinue of Lannisters, Dornish servants and Lannister servants. Elia stuck close to Oberyn, suddenly wary of all these strangers and needing the assurance of someone familiar. "We have prepared your chambers and have wine and delicacies ready and waiting for you there."

"That is most kind." Doran inclined his head and gave a slow, measured smile. "We would be most obliged, our journey has been long and arduous."

"I can imagine, Prince Doran." Tytos clapped him on the shoulder. "Rest and enjoy some Lannister hospitality, tonight there will be a feast in your honour but until then your time is your own."

"You are most kind, ser." Doran gave shoulder clapin return, following what seemed to be their custom, and Tytos excused himself leaving Tywin, the children and the servants to see to the royals' needs.

"Your chambers are in the east wing, with a beautiful view of the sunrise which I hope pleases the royals form the land of the sun," Tywin informed them, his tone ice despite his welcoming words. "This servant shall show you the way." He placed his hand on the small of one of the serving girl's back and pressed her forward. It did not escape Doran's notice that she was easily the most beautiful of the servant girls and he grinned warmly.

"Thank you, that is kind."

"Until tonight," Tywin regarded them all before turning to leave, ushering Cersei and Jaime away brusquely.

The servant girl who had been offered as guide blushed under Doran's gaze and began to lead them through the maze of corridors and staircases, her robes dancing pleasingly about her hips as she walked. Oberyn snorted seeing his brother's attention diverted so easily and Elia had to keep him quiet.

"This is your antechamber," the girl said, throwing open a huge, thick set of double doors, solid oak in build and engraved with golden lion's heads in spider thin streaks of the molten metal. The room the doors opened up onto was beautiful, large and airy and with a huge balcony with a grand view, it was easily as opulent as Doran's chambers in the palace and the younger royals gasped.

"Where will the younger ones stay?" Doran quizzed absently, throwing himself onto one of the huge couches and reclining as he sipped wine from the chalice waiting for him. He didn't even think to have is tasted by the servant girl, Elia thought in shocked disgust. You can never be too trusting as royalty and tasters were as much a part of their daily routine as breathing.

"Brother!" she admonished sharply, gesturing at the wine with wide eyes.

He waved her concern away without even offering her a glance, with eyes only for this servant. "Now, show my brother and sister to their chambers and then return and help me make mine more comfortable," he ordered her with a mischievous smile the likes of which Elia had never seen him show.

"They are to stay ...here," the girl looked uncomfortable at breaking such news and squirmed where she stood, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"...Here, with me?" he asked weakly, dropping the chalice and gawping at her for a moment.

"Y-Yes, my prince," she replied.

"Oh." He picked up the felled chalice, ignoring the wine which spread across the marble floor and tried to compose himself. "Very well then, where are their bedrooms?"

She showed them to a large corridor outside the antechamber and lead first Elia then Oberyn to their own rooms, then gestured to Doran that his was the chamber at the furthest end with the best view.

He smiled weakly at this and allowed her to lead him into it while the younger Martells explored their beautiful rooms for themselves, stopping only to giggle to each other later as they heard moans and sighs coming from their brother's room which must have been very loud indeed to be heard through the thick walls and long distance between them.

"I've never seen him like that before," Elia confided between giggles.

"I have," Oberyn said matter of factly. "He is, after all, a prince of Dorne."

"Will you chase women that way?" Elia asked after a while, seeing underneath his babyface the handsome man he would one day become.

"Of course." He smirked and winked at her. "But non shall ever be as precious to me as my sister," he assured her solemnly, bringing a bright smile to her face which lit up her eyes. "Will you chase men?" he asked curiously.

"Brother, I am a princess of Dorne." She smirked with a sudden playful surge of mischief. "Men will chase _me_."

Of that he had no doubt.

* * *

That night Elia and Oberyn entered the feast arm in arm and were dazzled by the wealth on show around the Lannister home. They were royals, used to affluence, but even for them this was luxury.

From the great hall the smell of pastries and meat cooked in gravy, tarts and wine and ale wafted its way towards them and they both inhaled appreciatively. It may not have been the delectable scent of Dorne's spices and fragrant food, but it smelled wholesome and good and the children were both ravenous having eaten nothing but travelling rations for weeks, bar their stay at the richly laden table of the Tyrells.

As they weaved their way through the many revelers at the feast to their places of honour on the dais conversations stopped and all eyes turned to appraise them. It was certain their brother was of more interest, but royalty even in a noble like the Lannister's house, was hard to come by and people were curious to see the faces of a prince and princess of Dorne, a place many of Westeros knew little about.

Elia held herself with dignity and Oberyn put on a swagger, causing his sister to smile at him in affection. There was only one Oberyn and he would have made a far more interesting heir for Westeros to watch than their more reserved and dutiful older brother.

As they reached their seats they saw their brother still had not made it. Elia hoped he would arrive before long so as not to insult their hosts.

"Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia," Tytos greeted them with friendly but distant courtesy. "What of your brother, will he be joining us?"

"Shortly, ser," Elia rushed to assure him with a smile.

"Excellent," he replied and returned to a conversation he had been having with Tywin, the princess and prince forgotten by all as the hum of chatter rose once more all around the large hall. This suited Elia just fine, she did not feel comfortable being in the centre of attention.

"So you're a princess?" Cersei, from a few seats away, leaned forward to ask.

"Yes," she replied, "and you're a Lannister?"

The blond gave a self satisfied smile and flicked her hair behind her shoulder to lean forward further. "I am."

The girls sized each other up for a moment before Cersei leaned back, her attention drawn by the arrival of Doran.

"What's Dorne like?" Jaime asked, his eyes shining. "Do you really have some of the best sword fighters in the seven kingdoms?"

Oberyn smirked. "What kind of a question is that? Of course we do!"

The boys laughed and began a conversation about sword play, fighting, knighthood and other such young boys' dreams.

Elia just ate and watched, observing the exchanges between Tytos and Twin and then between Tytos and Doran. People and politics fascinated her and she was often unnoticed which allowed for easy people watching. Tonight it was also vastly amusing, as she found when she had to hold down a laugh watching Cersei try to flirt with Doran with about as much success as a carp would have climbing a tree. Poor girl, didn't she know Doran was a man who wanted a woman, not some simpering girl?!

"Hey," Cersei hissed to her suddenly, having failed many times to get the oldest prince's attention. "Want to see a monster?"

Jaime and Oberyn stopped their conversation and turned their attention to the girls. "A monster?" Oberyn snorted. "There's no such thing."

Jaime glared at his sister but she seemed not to notice. "There are monsters, we have one. The Lannister beast." Her voice was a whisper now, hardly able to be heard above the general din of the feast.

"Cersei," Jaime chided.

"What?" she challenged, glaring at him with a look so spiteful he recoiled and stared miserably at his food. "It is a monster and you know it. It killed our mother," she spat, anger overflowing from her until she clamped down on her feelings and her eyes became as hard as flint.

"A monster killed your mother?" Oberyn asked uncertainly, glancing between the twins for an answer.

"Yes, it is a beast and we keep it locked up," her mouth twisted up in a distortion of a smile which churned Elia's stomach. "Well..." she amended, "we keep it far away from us at any rate."

"What kind of beast?" Elia asked, curious despite herself.

"I can show you." She widened her smile in a cold invitation, "but only if you're brave enough."

"We are children of house Martell," Oberyn growled indignantly.

"Show us." Elia set her jaw and placed down her goblet, ready to sneak from the feast and find this beast. She would show no fear, her's was a house of warriors.

"As you wish, princess." Cersei stood and sketched a mocking bow before leading the way for the other three children to follow, walking fast as her skirts billowed around her feet, her sandals echoing on the stone floor eerily as they took a spiral staircase into darkness, the smell of mould growing stronger with each step. A shiver ran up Elia's spine but Jaime lit a torch and the warmth and light quickly flooded their path.

An infant's wail rose up from the depths of this basement and Elia gasped. "You've let a baby be brought down here?" she demanded, taking the torch from Jaime and running down as the blood pounded in her ears, horrified by the thought of a baby being attacked by a monster because she was too slow.

"Hey, slow down!" Cersei's voice called from behind, likely annoyed by the fact Elia had taken their light source ahead. Yet Elia could not slow down, not when an infant's well being was at stake. An instinct she had never felt, the need to protect the vulnerable, surged through her and she ran faster than she had ever thought possible.

As she reached the cold, dank chamber located at the bottom of the flight of stairs, illuminated only by a single torch in the corner of the room, she was stopped short by what she saw. Oberyn's cluncky footsteps stopped just behind her as he, too, took in the room and looked around with wide, confused eyes.

A baby squirmed and cried in a crib in the centre of the room, no one around to see to its needs. No other life, nothing which could be seen as a monster, was present, unless the Lannister children found fear in facing the silk lion placed in the cradle for the baby to grasp and teethe on.

"Isn't is disgusting?" Cersei's voice dripped venom as she walked forward, panting slightly from the run, into the centre of the room and craned over the crib.

Elia's mouth hung open in shock at the girl's words as the meaning of this whole situation hit her.

"It's a baby!" Oberyn defended the mewling creature and joined Jaime to walk over and look into the cot.

"It's our brother, Tyrion," Jaime spoke tenderly and was met with a stare from his sister.

"It's no baby, no brother of ours!" Cersei swung around to face them and her voice rose to a shriek. "It killed our mother and is deformed like a gremlin, proving it is a monster." Her face scrunched up in rage, as if she had sucked on the sour juice of a lemon, and in one unexpected and ferocious move she slammed her foot into one of the wooden legs which held the cot up, breaking it and causing the crib to clatter to the ground, pouring the hysterical Lannister baby into the dirt of the chamber.

There was silence for a moment, Cersei's face froze as the children's minds took in what she had done, before Elia let out a pained cry and threw herself onto the floor to pick up the infant before Cersei could strike again.

Dumbfounded by her own actions, the blond stared and her mouth gaped slightly. "I-I..." she began, but no justifications came.

Tenderly wiping the dirt from Tyrion's small, deformed body, Elia stood with him in her arms, settling down slightly at being held and snuggling into the warmth of her cloaks, and walked up to Cersei with hatred in her eyes bearing down on her with a ferocity previously alien to her.

"You bitch," she snarled quietly.

Then, with a strike as rapid as a viper, she lashed out and slapped the Lannister girl across the face, leaving a red mark and a stunned expression before waltzing out of the chamber up the cold stone stairs, the hapless babe in her arms.

Jaime and Oberyn looked at Cersei, who stood mute and placed a hand tenderly to the place she had been hit. It was a strange sensation to her for no one had ever raised their hand in violence to the girl, and she looked to her brother for sympathy and outrage on her behalf but, finding none, burst into tears.

"She hit me!" Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch as she pointed an accusing finger at the stairs. "That no good she-viper _hit_ _me_!"

"You hurt our brother." Jaime shook his head sadly and turned away from his sister.

Oberyn followed, silent and solemn for once.

She was left alone in the dark and the cold.

* * *

The rest of the stay for the Dorne children was tense, at least when Cersei was around. However they also had ample opportunity to play without her and there were many times during their stay of bliss when Oberyn would play knights with Jaime in the gardens while Elia cooed and tickled the youngest Lannister, delighting in his quick and curious mind as he interacted with his surroundings. He had a bright smile and lapped up her attention and affection with hunger, his stubby arms and legs flailing with excitement whenever he heard her voice or saw her face.

She cried when they said farewell, clinging his small body to her until the very last moment when he was forcibly pried away.

"Invite him to visit?" she pleaded her older brother through bitter sobs as he was whisked away and she was bundled into the litter. "Please-" he voice broke and Oberyn took her shaking hand in his warm one.

Doran shrugged. "He is too little for such a journey, sister."

"Oh please brother!" Oberyn begged on his sister's behalf, seeing she could not form words between her heart wrenching sobs.

"Don't be so dramatic, children." He dismissed them with contempt.

Their time in Westeros was at an end, it was an experience none would forget. Elia's only regret was they had not once ventured to the Red Keep, she would so have loved to take Tyrion to see the dragon skeleton.

"Be well, sweet babe," she whispered as the litter lurched into motion, blowing a kiss in the direction of Tyrion's rooms. "I hope we meet again."

Her heart broke at the thought of leaving that sweet, love starved baby alone yet again.


End file.
